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The following text has been faithfully transcribed from Navarrian into the modern language by Jesinia Neilwart, Curator of the Scribe Quadrant at Basgiath War College. All events are true, and names have been preserved to honor the courage of those fallen. May their souls be commended to Malek.
“I will not die today,”
Jack Barlowe!”
So. Stupid. ACTUALLY DUMB.
She flashes me a smirk of a smile, then turns toward the other flier. “Let’s go, Catriona.” Catriona. Cat. The way my stomach hollows has nothing to do with Tairn’s sudden launch into the night sky and everything to do with remembering what Bodhi said weeks ago. I’ve never seen him care like this, and that includes Catriona. Oh gods. The way she’d looked at him wasn’t just longing—it was memory.
Can I have one moment of peace when it comes to these two
avoiding Jack Barlowe—who is weirdly nice to everyone—at all costs.
Aaric dismounts from the Blue Clubtail like he’s been doing it for years,
“A Red Daggertail,” I whisper, relief flooding my veins as Sloane clumsily dismounts, clutching her shoulder. “Just like her brother.”
Blond hair and icy-blue eyes appear above me, and my heart plummets with the assassin’s body. Jack Barlowe. “Sorrengail?”
“Then it’s a good thing we have access to a prince who happens to hate his father.”
“You have no idea what he did to Alic!” he seethes. “Your brother was a craven, murderous prick.” Xaden hooks his fingers into my waistband and tugs me backward, setting me slightly behind him before he shoves Aaric through the wards and into the hallway. “And I’m not sorry I killed him.” Oh shit. I did not see that coming.
“Sleep if you can.” The suggestion is soft, the voice so achingly familiar that I squeeze my undamaged eye shut. You’re not really here. You’re a hallucination from pain and dehydration. A mirage. “Maybe,” Liam says,
Dain whips his arm back, and I wait for the forward surge, the cut, the pain, the flow of blood. It doesn’t come. Varrish staggers backward, holding his side, his eyes bulging as a roaring sound fills my ears.
“I promised you’d die in this room,” I whisper, but I’m shaking too hard to push the blade home.
“Wars do not wait for your readiness,” Xaden continues, “and make no mistake about it—we are at war. A war in which we are outmatched not only in strength of signet but air superiority as a whole.”
“You did say that you needed riders.”
“Clearly, or she wouldn’t be asking.” I can practically feel Andarna’s eyeroll. “Ooh…sheep.” “They will not stay down if you keep stuffing them in like”—Tairn sighs—“that.”
“Shortest revolution in history.”
“Wait. Teine leads the riot.” Teine? Mira. Fear knots my stomach.
She has to be on their side
“We all come peacefully. It was Riorson who came for us. How else would we have found you?” She glances up at the house without breaking pace. “Gods, I thought this place was ash.”
“Hey, Mira.” He’s less than a dozen feet away, his grin widening. “You’re alive?” She stumbles forward, shaking her head. “After… I mean… It’s been six years, and you’re…alive?” “In the flesh.” He opens his arms. “Gods, it’s good to see you.” She draws back her fist and punches him straight in the face.
“Oh for fuck’s sake! Stop it!” I shout,
The flier’s mouth curves into a toothy smile. “I can respect that.” He glances up at the gryphon above him, and the trio parts, revealing the figure waiting directly behind them. A figure dressed entirely in black. His jaw flexes, his hands curl at his sides, and his beautiful face… Well, he hasn’t looked at me with that much anger since discovering my last name at Parapet, back when he wanted to kill me. Guess I should be careful what I ask for, because I’m so fucked. “You aren’t where I left you, Violence.”
Oop
Suddenly, I understand exactly why Xaden’s been here too many times to keep count.
This shit again?!
And he couldn’t kill me thanks to the deal he made with Mom—the deal he still hasn’t trusted me with.
My smile widens at the thought of an Aretian-born feathertail.
I will not fucking die today.
“You’re wounded. You know that, right?” Dain questions me, glancing at his belt. “And you’re a memory reader.” His gaze narrows. “Oh, were we not stating obvious facts?”
“They’re going to let us beat the shit out of them?”
“Scratch her eyes out,” Andarna suggests. “Really. The eyes are the softest tissue. Just jab your thumbs in there—” “Andarna! Use some common sense,” Tairn snaps. “The kneecaps are a much easier target.”
Holy shit. She fights like Xaden. He trained both of us.
I want Vi to punch Cat and Xaden.
“Three minutes,” Tairn tells me. “You will not die today!”
